Dreams of Hugo
by Jane Poirot
Summary: What worries us during the day comes back to haunt us in our sleep. Vera Claythorne, in particular, knows this quite well...


**Disclaimer: 'And Then There Were None' does not belong to me; it was Agatha Christie's idea first and I make no profit off of it. The song used in this fanfic—Haunted—belongs to Evanescence and I make no profit off of using this song either. Also, I am taking a somewhat different approach this time: Whereas my other two ATTWN fanfics were about either Hugo or Lombard looking at Vera through their eyes, this time, it's Vera looking at Hugo, Lombard, and the other guests (but mostly Hugo) through her eyes. PS If this fanfic starts out a little weird, that's because it's a dream. **

* * *

"Miss Claythorne?"

I yawned and slowly woke up. Mr. Lombard and Mr. Blore were standing by my bed—only Mr. Blore wasn't dressed the way he usually is; he's dressed like a big teddy bear! It was hard to believe that he ever looked intimidating when I first met him; now he looked cute and cuddly!

"Yes?" I replied, sounding as natural as possible.

"It would be our honour to escort you to the ball downstairs," said Mr. Lombard in a most formal manner. He and Mr. Blore gently helped me out of bed and guided me to my bedroom door. We slowly walked across the stairway and down the stairs…but I didn't feel as though we're _walking_ down the stairs. I felt like I'm walking on a fluffy cloud in the sky. Perhaps this terrifying weekend never happened and this is all just a terrifying dream that is starting to end happily.

Finally, we got to the bottom of the stairs and there was a gate in front of us. Mr. and Mrs. Rogers slowly opened the gate—and there stood a _beautiful_ ballroom on the other side of it. The walls were gold, the floor was white, and there's a large dome as the ceiling. I slowly spun around—and there was Mr. Lombard, dressed most handsomely!

"Would you care to dance, Vera?" asked Mr. Lombard.

I looked down and saw myself wearing beautiful gold gown. I looked up and said nervously, "Sure."

Philip gently took my hand and placed his other hand on my waist. "I never knew I could feel like this before, Vera," he said softly, gazing deep into my eyes. "You're the most beautiful woman alive. You're everything I could ever want, and so much more. I love you."

At last, now I knew Philip _did_ share my feelings for him! I looked back and said, "I love you too, Philip. I wish you could take me away from this dreaded place and leave it behind us."

And now, Philip asked the question I'd been waiting for him to ask: "May I kiss you?"

"Yes, yes, my sweet," I whispered. "Kiss me as though this is our last day together, as though we shall both die."

"Vera?"

I quickly spun around—and saw Hugo standing there. He, too, was handsomely dressed. He said, "I love you, Vera. You know I love you, don't you?"

_**Long lost words whisper slowly to me**_

I gulped and shook my head. "N—no, I'm sorry, I don't recall you saying those words to me, ever," I said nervously. "You never existed. I will _not_ think of you! I _won't_!" I quickly ran towards the door—but it turned into a large stone wall. My surroundings were no longer beautiful; now everything was a stone wall blocking my path.

_**Still can't find what keeps me here**_

_**When all this time I've been so hollow inside**_

_**(I know you're still there)**_

Hugo laughed a cruel laugh and spat, "Face it, Vera—no matter what you do, you can't escape your past! No matter what you do to forget it, it always comes back to haunt you, isn't that right, Cyril?"

_**Watching me**_

_**Wanting me**_

_**I can feel you hold me down**_

Suddenly, Cyril's cold, wet hand—the seaweed I felt earlier—shot out of nowhere and wraped itself around my neck. I can't breathe! Lord, I can't breathe! Why must Hugo do this to me? Does he not realize that I love him? Wait—yes, the hand slowly loosened up and let go completely—dropping me thirty-five feet below.

_**Fearing you**_

_**Loving you**_

_**I won't let you hold me down**_

I landed on some sand. The smell that filled my nostrils took me back to St. Tredennick—the place where I killed Cyril. I killed Cyril. Yes, I killed Cyril! I screeched, "I know I killed you, little boy! You see? I admitted it! Now leave me alone!"

_**Haunting you I can smell you-alive**_

_**Your heart pounding in my head**_

"So you admit it?" sneered Cyril, slowly emerging from the sea. "Funny, but that's not the story I recall you telling to my mother." To my horror, he then said using _my_ voice, "Oh, it was just _awful,_ Mrs. Hamilton! I tried to rescue him, I—I really did, but I got distracted for a second and—oh my God! I don't deserve to live! I'm such an awful person!" He then said in his normal voice, "You were right: You _are_ an awful person and you _don't_ deserve to live!"

"Now, now, Cyril, you mustn't be so harsh on Miss Claythorne," said Hugo, stepping forward. "After all, she loved me very much. Perhaps a little _too_ much, isn't that right?"

I desperately looked for a way out and tried to run away, but Hugo grabbed me by the wrist and hissed, "Don't run away, Vera; I'm going to make sure you listen to me, whether you like it or not: I don't care if I was going to be rich from it, or if I was going to be able to marry you and start a family; you _killed_ my beloved nephew and now I'm going to make sure you pay for it!"

_**Watching me**_

_**Wanting me**_

_**I can feel you pull me down**_

_**Saving me**_

_**Raping me**_

_**Watching me**_

"No," I said, slowly shaking my head. "NO!"

Hugo and Cyril laughed and tossed me into the ocean. I kept trying to keep my head on the surface, but the guests all came into the ocean and morphed into hideous creatures! No matter how much I struggled against them and put up a fight, they kept pinning me down, sinking me further and further into the ocean, getting harder and harder for me to breathe…

_**Watching me**_

_**Wanting me**_

_**I can feel you pull me down**_

_**Fearing you**_

_**Loving you**_

_**I won't let you pull me down**_

"Miss Claythorne?"

I wake up, startled by the knock on the door. I instinctively say, "Who is it? What's the matter?"

I'm barely paying attention to what's being said or who's saying it. What I experienced just now was only a nightmare—but this weekend isn't, and who knows how long it'll be before the boat finally comes and gets us, or if that nightmare was the last dream I'll ever have…

_End_


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